


when i get my hands on you

by lerayon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7052755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lerayon/pseuds/lerayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompted Arrow ficlet that explores Felicity’s feelings about returning to Star City with Oliver after their summer travels and stint in Ivy Town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when i get my hands on you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuperSillyAndDorky06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSillyAndDorky06/gifts).



> Inspired by Matty, who submitted this prompt on Tumblr: 
> 
> “Prompts! Yes! How about Oliver says he doesn't dance but he's actually an amazing dancer and the first time he dances it's in the kitchen while cooking when he thinks no one is watching. And Felicity is AWED at the way his hips move ;)”
> 
> Thank you for the ask! I ended up going someplace a bit unexpected. I hope you don't mind that the fic is more in line with the spirit of your prompt rather than the letter.
> 
> This is also my submission for @darlinginmyway’s Bathroom Therapy Giveaway. I love the rules of entry, and the deadline helped me get off the dime with my writing. Thanks, Jen! 
> 
> Titled after Bob Dylan’s song of the same name, as performed by The New Basement Tapes

Felicity hoisted herself up from the bathroom floor and stretched her sore back and shoulders. Moving _sucked_. Oliver and the movers had done most of the heavy lifting, but days later the chore of unpacking boxes and putting everything in its place seemed almost never-ending. Plus, she had somehow carted with her from Ivy Town way too many hotel-sized lotions and shampoos. Well, more accurately, carted them from Positano, Bali, Thailand, and a few other places she and Oliver had visited during their summer idyll.

With a wistful smile, she considered the tiny bottles and tubes lined up on the vanity. Until recently, she hadn’t been able to admit to herself that she’d held onto them as a way to infuse a “Just Passing through Town” feel into their increasingly more settled life in Ivy Town. If her daily showers in suburbia could conjure memories of Oliver washing her hair in a bathtub illuminated by Balinese moonlight, Felicity had thought she _maybe_ could stave off the unease she felt threatening their hard-won domestic peace.

Now that she had confessed her needs to Oliver, and they were back in Starli -- _Star_ City, Felicity supposed she didn’t need them anymore. She swept the unused containers into a plastic bag and placed them in the box destined for one of the many shelters in The Glades. She could use the remaining open vials of lotion tonight after her bath; for now she stowed them in the cabinet alongside Oliver’s razor and floss. With a final survey of the room – extra towels in the linen closet, cleaning supplies stored under the sink, shower caddy loaded for bear – she clicked off the light and did a mini happy dance. Bathroom: Done!

Having also sorted out her side of the closet earlier in the day, she figured she’d earned her tiny triumph and some pre-dinner ice cream to boot. Or wine…maybe both? And could she get away with enjoying them while she soaked in the bath? She was halfway down the stairs and about to call out to ask Oliver if he’d found the wine key in one of the many kitchen boxes, when an unfamiliar sound stopped her. Was he humming?

Felicity eased down the last steps and walked quietly through the living room. She knew she couldn’t sneak up on him; those ninja senses of his made that impossible, but she could do her best not to interrupt. As she drew closer, she confirmed that he indeed was humming along to a song playing on the iPod she’d docked at the breakfast bar that morning. Felicity grinned – both at the song choice and the novelty of Oliver’s tuneless accompaniment. Normally, such a casual absent-minded action wouldn’t strike her as so charming, but the thing was, except for that anxious worrying of his bow hand fingers, Oliver Queen never did _anything_ absently. Whether he was making arrowheads, scrolling through a new recipe, or giving her some undivided attention, he always approached a task with intense focus.

But here he was in the kitchen sorting spoons and forks into the utensil drawer, his deep wordless timbre sliding into the chorus ( _And now you know/everywhere on earth you go/you're gonna have me as your man_ ) and marking time to keyboard riffs and bits of verse ( _When I come home to you/hold you in my arms all night_ ).

Felicity’s eyes filled with fast hot tears that spilled out from behind her glasses and down her cheeks. She loved this song. Its sweet, spare lyrics and instrumentals promised an easy but assured devotion, spoke of forever. He _was_ hers. And she was his. As much as any person could belong to another she belonged to Oliver, her beloved, body and soul. It was wonderful…and a little bit terrifying.

This sudden slice of fear was replaced with mild embarrassment once Felicity realized he had moved from the kitchen and now stood watching her, his eyes wide with concern. The iPod had shuffled on to a bouncy pop track, and she was standing in the middle of the loft crying soundlessly.

She didn’t really have words to describe the rush of emotions that had overwhelmed her just then. All she could manage was a weak, apologetic smile and shrug of her shoulders. Oliver tipped his head to the side and – fingers twitching – regarded her for several moments, which Felicity used to wipe away her drying tears. Just as she opened her mouth to attempt an explanation, he reached for the tiny speaker remote. With two button clicks, the opening percussions of “When I Get My Hands on You” again filled the space.

Oliver held out his hand. “C’mere.”

Felicity walked straight into his arms and pressed her palms flat against his back in a tight embrace. He squeezed her, and they stood, unmoving, for a full minute.

_When I get my hands on you/gonna make you carry me_

_When I get my hands on you/gonna make you marry me_

As the chorus replayed, Oliver began to sway to the music, bringing her along in a slow gentle shuffle. She tipped her head back and beamed up at him. In return, he dropped a kiss to her temple, and then spun her, before pulling her flush against him. They ended the song wrapped around each other; Felicity’s right hand interlaced with his left and held firmly against his heart.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“Play it one more time.”

\-----

Listen to The New Basement Tapes's When I Get My Hands on You [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDUDx15KdkI)


End file.
